


Muscle Memory

by cheeryos



Series: we're the dreamer in the beautiful mess [2]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Adam Parrish Solves A Puzzle, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, brief mention of off-screen character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:41:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27277405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheeryos/pseuds/cheeryos
Summary: It’s safe to say that Ronan Lynch’s nineteen years on earth had not been easy. Even the wondrous and impossible magic he possessed had a bad habit of raining down chaos and destruction. But, very occasionally, there were perks. This is a story about one of them.
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Series: we're the dreamer in the beautiful mess [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1991518
Comments: 6
Kudos: 83





	Muscle Memory

After, life was suddenly and improbably quiet.

Skeleton kings had been found, magic cast, demons slayed, lives lost, and regained, and lost, and lost, and lost. And now, after the earth had shattered and reformed anew, the only thing left to do was—everything. They were nineteen and untethered. They had years and years of life ahead. All unwritten, unknown.

Adam and Ronan were laying side by side in one of the far fields, sated and soaking in the residual fading light as the sun disappeared under the horizon. It had been an unusually warm late autumn day, and Adam had had an usually free afternoon, and so they had spent it driving recklessly on (and off) the dirt tracks through the abandoned pastures and then tangled together in the overgrown grass behind one of the round hay bales that dotted the hills.

As he half-heartedly swatted a glittering June bug away from his ear, Adam thought about how the faint buzz was the only sound he had heard in several minutes. He thought about how peaceful he felt as the sky turned purple-orange above him. He recalled Gansey’s words about love. Improbably, their brief talk during the Night for Truths had actually been clarifying. Everyone was always telling Adam how skilled he was at analysis and calculation, but Adam knew his own limitations. He sometimes felt as if everything in the universe was divided into outside-Adam and inside-Adam, and all his knowledge and cleverness ended at his own skin. He was not introspective by nature. In fact, he was far more comfortable ignoring his feelings than identifying them, let alone speaking them aloud to another person.

But he had felt comfortable enough with Gansey, who was no expert at feelings himself. When you really dug down to the Richard Campbell Gansey essence, he was just as lost as anyone, and quite a bit more than some. Which made the whole thing much easier—Adam couldn’t imagine trying to explain his tangled insides to someone who was actually competent at these sorts of things. He didn’t need a therapist, he needed someone who could relate. And so.

 _She makes me quiet_. Those simple words rang once again in his head as he considered the utter stillness of the evening surrounding him now.

He was at peace.

Well, almost.

Adam was no longer surprised by Ronan. Really, he had been aware for a while what Ronan was capable of. A switch had been flipped some time over the summer, after the disastrous Fourth of July party, and Ronan had been taken apart and re-formed in Adam's mind. He supposed it could simply be that he had gotten to know Ronan so much better, but he was certain that the dreamer himself had changed—become less prickly, more self-assured. Less fractured. More real.

Almost overnight, they ceased to merely tolerate each other, and had become allies. No, not just allies. A paired set. Boom, switch flipped and Adam and Ronan became Adam-and-Ronan. And Ronan, with his disdain of all forms of deception, was not subtle. So Adam had expected something to happen. Had anticipated it. It was only a short leap from anticipation to—hope. Eagerness. Desire. Adam had been waiting for it, and once it happened he could finally admit he had not been waiting as a detached observer. Adam had not simply been predicting the future, he had been longing for it.

Suddenly the future was here, and he was _made_ _quiet_.

Well, almost.

Somehow, there was one final thing disturbing the stillness of his mind. Of course, there had to be. _Why_ he couldn’t just leave it alone, he had no idea. A hangover, maybe, from past times of turmoil. Or some self-destructive defect, where he couldn’t just let himself be happy. Things weren’t right if they weren’t going wrong. The thing itself was stupid, inconsequential. He didn’t even actually care about it. He just couldn’t deal with the question lingering in the air, unanswered. Adam, ever the scientist, had to solve this inconsistency in the data, and damn the consequences.

He refused to admit even to himself that it was jealousy. This was solving a puzzle, nothing more, nothing less.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he gave voice to the question.

“Have you ever…dated anyone before?”

Ronan scoffed lightly, but didn’t open his eyes from where he was starfished next to Adam.

“Who the fuck do you think I’ve been hanging around with that the rest of you wouldn’t know about?”

Adam was silent for a moment. “Kavinsky?”

“Jealous?” The word wasn’t accusatory.

Now it was Adam’s turn to scoff. “I am not.” After a long day of physical exertion, and…ahem, _physical_ exertion, he was loose-limbed and loose-lipped, and his accent lengthened the vowel into _nawt_. “I’m just…curious, I guess. I’ll tell you my history and everything too, I don’t mind.”

“Jesus fucking—no, I don’t want to hear about all the trailer trash girls you hooked up with behind the bleachers, and no, I never boned Kavinsky, okay? It wasn’t like that.” He hesitated. “Well, not with me. It was, I don’t even know how to describe it, a weird thing between us. Mostly about dream stuff. And racing. Mostly on his end. Maybe it was almost—but no, nothing ever happened.”

“Huh.” Adam didn’t say anything for a moment again. “Okay.”

“What, you don’t believe me?”

“You never lie.”

“No, Parrish, I don’t. But you don’t sound convinced.” He finally opened his eyes, and leaned up onto one elbow to turn toward where Adam was lying. “You say you aren’t jealous, but…you kind of sound jealous.”

“I’m not jealous, Lynch, for God’s sake. Not much point anyways, he’s dead,” Adam finished the last part under his breath.

Ronan laughed, shocked. “That’s cold, Parrish.”

“What, you want me to weep over his body? Wouldn’t change anything, would it? And I’m not going to pretend he was a good guy and I miss him. Sorry, but he sucked and I don’t see the point of faking remorse.”

“Well I don’t see the point of you bringing up all this shit in the first place, man.” Ronan sat up fully, and looked down at his hands, fiddling with the leather bands on his wrist. “I thought things were good.”

“They were. They are! Better than good. That’s kind of the problem.” Adam backtracked. “Shit—no, problem isn’t the right word. There isn’t a problem. Like you said, things are great. I’m just…trying to figure out…” He trailed off.

“Spit it out, for fuck’s sake.” Ronan was starting to sound annoyed, a sure sign that he was feeling fragile. Adam needed to get this back on track. He definitely did not mean to start a fight. He sat up to face Ronan.

“Was I your first kiss?” he asked bluntly.

“Yes.” The answer was immediate and just as blunt.

“I thought so. But then, your first—everything else too?”

Ronan rolled his eyes. This time, Adam could tell he was more embarrassed than annoyed. He flushed slightly as he replied, “Obviously. What, you think I’m sucking off random guys without kissing them like some Victorian prostitute with consumption? Give me a fucking break.”

Adam grinned, despite himself. “Hey, for all I know, you could be destined to kill your true love with a kiss. Those kinda Disney movie curses never say anything about the filthier stuff.”

Ronan laughed, and shoved him slightly. Then he got quiet again.

“What is this really about?”

Adam didn’t answer right away. This was about to be extremely embarrassing. He had been hoping he could get through this conversation without bringing it up.

“I didn’t want to say anything earlier, with everything else going on. And obviously it doesn’t matter to me, I don’t care either way.” He braced himself and blundered on. “You just seem too… _experienced_ for me to fully believe that I’m your first. People get better at things with practice. People aren’t naturals at getting someone else off.”

For a second, Ronan looked at Adam like he had sprouted a second head. Then his face cleared and a loose grin took over. He let out a loud laugh and fell back onto the grass.

“Jesus, all this because I’m _too good_ in bed? You scared the shit out of me, you asshole, I thought you were trying to break up with me!”

“You should have known that wasn’t it.” Adam could feel his face heating up, but despite his embarrassment he tried to sound sincere. Ronan was still uncomfortably half-convinced that Adam wasn't as serious about the relationship.

“Well yeah, now that you’ve admitted that you’ll never be able to get dick this good anywhere else. I knew you could barely control yourself around me these days, but this is a little ridiculous.”

“Shut up, jackass.” Adam mirrored Ronan’s fall, so they were once again laid out side by side. Ronan’s hand creeped over to trace across Adam’s fingers, then moved to travel along his wrist and further up his arm.

“You can’t just give me a regular compliment like a normal person?”

“Nope.” Adam wanted to. He was amazed by Ronan, and wanted to tell him so constantly, but he didn’t know how. Besides, Ronan didn’t know how to accept compliments. They were both a bit unsteady, supporting this fledgling thing on spindly legs, but they were trying.

“I am serious, though,” he continued. “You know, like, _exactly_ what I want. _I_ don’t even know what I want.” Adam felt his skin burning nearly to his shoulders by this point. What a mortifying ordeal.

“Well, yeah. I pay attention,” Ronan said simply.

Adam thought of all the times he had considered himself unknowable. What a juvenile pretension. Believing he was indecipherable by everyone, just because he didn’t know how to decipher his own feelings. Putting himself above the knowing gaze of others, too complex a being for the petty teenage emotions of his friends, to hide from everyone, especially himself, how unbelievably lonely he was. It was easier to drape himself in aloof and quiet inhumanity than admit how much he _wanted_.

Ronan suddenly rolled over to hover above Adam, hands balanced on the ground beside his ribs. There was no real intent in the movement yet—they were both still worn out after the afternoon’s activities.

“So let me get this straight, you thought I practiced my great, stellar, _mind-blowing_ skills on Kavinsky to use on you? How does that even work? Like how the fuck d’you think you and Kavinsky would even be into the same things?”

Adam hummed thoughtfully. “You’ve got a point there. Dude was basically a sadist.”

Ronan didn’t respond. Instead, he collapsed gently onto Adam, and they fit themselves together, legs like puzzle pieces, like a horizontal hug. Ronan buried his face under Adam’s chin, one arm coming up to card through his hair. They were quiet for a while longer.

After some time, Ronan spoke into Adam’s neck. “Okay, I do maybe have a sort-of explanation. I don't know how you're gonna take it though.”

“Dream spy cam in my attic? Another robot insect?” Adam joked.

“You got one of those words right.” He took a deep breath and continued. “I used to dream about you. Like, a lot.”

This was not a revelation. Ronan dreamed all sorts of fantastical things, all the time. Adam was probably the least special of all of them. And Ronan had already confessed his worst dreams to him, all those months ago.

“Yeah, I know. You told me that already.”

“No, not just the nightmares. I mean, those totally sucked. But there were also, um, good dreams. Better dreams.”

This…was a bit of a revelation, actually. Adam wasn’t a stranger to those kinds of dreams. Well, obviously, what teenage guy wasn’t familiar with those? But the thought of Ronan’s hyper-realistic dreams, his uncanny ability to manifest his creativity and desires in _that_ context was something else entirely.

Images of the two of them together in Cabeswater flashed through his mind like a flipbook: Ronan pressing him up against the trunk of a gnarled oak tree, pulling his Aglionby sweater down to mouth at his collarbone—Ronan’s hands traveling down to fumble with his belt buckle—Ronan falling to his knees, gazing up through impossibly long lashes, want etched into every curve and angle of his face—intercut with images of Ronan in his room alone, asleep, shirtless and sweaty and writhing in tangled sheets—

The pieces clunked together in Adam's mind, and he realized that Ronan was actually answering his original question.

“Ronan Lynch, are you telling me that you _practiced_ having sex with a dream version of me?!”

“No! Well, not _intentionally_! When you say it like that it sounds stupid as fuck.”

“No, it sounds fucking unfair, is what it sounds! This might be the most unfair part of your whole nonsense magical fairy existence. I barely even remember my dreams most of the time! And I can guarantee they don’t feel that real. Meanwhile, you get to fool around with me and I don’t even get anything out of it? How is that fair??”

“Hey, remember you brought it up because you’re just _soooo_ happy to be reaping the benefits now.” Ronan nuzzled further into his neck. The gesture lit Adam up like a fuse. He would never stop wanting.

“That's not why I brought it up,” he lied. His hands came up to fix around Ronan’s waist, fisting into his shirt. “How long has this been going on, anyways?”

“Um.” It was Ronan’s turn to blush. Adam couldn’t see it but he knew it was there. He could almost feel the heat from Ronan’s cheek against the sensitive skin under his jaw. “Basically since you started at Aglionby.”

“Almost TWO YEARS AGO? That’s, like, seven hundred and thirty days!” Adam was truly stunned. “Even if you only dreamed once a week, that’s still over a hundred dreams! I’ve missed out on so many orgasms that you were having with fucking _Dream Adam_ instead of me!”

“Okay. One, stop doing sex math, you absolute nerd. You’re lucky you’re hot, or I’d bully you so hard right now. And two, Dream Adam can go fuck himself. Like, literally if he wants. I’ve got Real Adam now and I’m never sleeping again.”

“Yeah but if you don’t sleep, eventually you just keel over and die.”

Ronan shifted his hips to press against Adam’s leg with more intent, and murmured into his good ear, “What a way to go, though. Might be worth it.”

“I’m still a little creeped out at how accurate your dream version of me must be.” This, too, was a lie.

“Yeah, must really suck to be known, Parrish. Better get used to it.”

Adam could hear the eyeroll in his tone. But Adam was not the only newly open book lying there in the field. By now he was well-versed in the cadence of Ronan’s various sarcastic remarks, and he could tell this one still masked some uncertainty.

"Hey, Lynch. Shove up for a second." Ronan lifted himself back onto his hands to look down at Adam. There was something slightly defiant in his gaze. Adam lifted his own head, chasing Ronan's lips in wordless reassurance.

"Want me to share a secret? Even exchange?" He kissed Ronan again before speaking. "You make me very happy. In every way that word can be applied."

Ronan's answering smile was easy and warm, so far from venomous that it was hard to believe this was the same spiky boy that had snarled and glared in his direction for so many long months. This wasn’t just Ronan with all the public posturing stripped away, either. There may have been a difference in how Ronan acted in public and how he acted when he was alone, but this was not that. This Ronan was Adam's own and this smile belonged to him alone.

Soon enough, it turned into a grin, and Adam loved that too.

"So what was that I heard about me owing you like a hundred orgasms?"

Adam laughed aloud, but didn't deny it. Who was he to argue with his own logic? And as Ronan began to travel down the length of his body, wandering hands at his waist, he once again marveled at the stillness of the rest of the world surrounding them, outside-Adam, now matched by calm inside.

He was at peace, and he was quiet.

...Well, almost.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure Adam should be eighteen not nineteen but what even is a timeline, ~time is a circle~ and also fake
> 
> also, you should know I almost titled this dreamlover, after the iconic mariah carey hit, because it got stuck in my head while writing. if you want to amuse yourself as much as I did, just imagine these dummies jamming to early 90s mariah carey in a field.


End file.
